Something More
by CatchLikeFire
Summary: When Dumbledore discovers a lost, cold eyed Harry Potter at a muggle orphanage, he doesn't expect the boy to become the most renowned magical prodigy the school has seen in decades and especially doesn't expect him to become the new prince of Slytherin, but he really should have... especially after the last time... Harry/Tom Riddle, Dark!Harry, Slytherin!Harry
1. Chapter 1

_You were that foundation_  
_Never gonna be another one, no._  
_I followed, so taken_  
_So conditioned I could never let go_  
_Then sorrow, then sickness_  
_Then the shock when you flip it on me_  
_So hollow, so vicious_  
_So afraid I couldn't let myself see_  
_That I could never be held_

_-Linkin Park, Lost in the Echo_

* * *

**Chapter One- Prologue**

* * *

November 1, 1981

Petunia Dursley was not amused. As far as she was concerned her little brat of a sister had ruined her life. She had taken the normal, suburban life Petunia was excellent at living, and made her parents believe their was much more. Only Lilly could give them this "much more" that they were so fascinated by and Petunia's exceptional talent of being neither extraordinary nor a disappointment was no longer interesting to them. Their eyes were wide, reflecting magic wands and filthy gnomes and goblins at Petunia whenever they returned from the places Lilly needed them to take her. She remembered the tears in her little sisters wide, emerald eyes as she called her a freak and couldn't deny the similarities between the child and her sister.

Little Harry Potter laid at the feet of Petunia Dursley and she trembled to think what the letter she held in her hand meant. She was meant to keep her nephew. She did not want him. After a moments hesitation she knelt down, glancing up and down the street, and finding herself relieved when no one was about, and carefully unwrapped the blanked from the child. He was small, skinny, very much unlike her own son Dudley, who had been nearly thirteen pounds at birth.

She ran her hand along his cheek and through his hair, and paused when she saw the scar, a small, zig zag along his forehead. It looked frightening, and clearly unnatural. She looked up and down the street. Her family wasn't unnatural, and she didn't want it to be. She didn't want that. She could not keep him, he would be a freak just like her sister. The child would grow and show everyone that "more" she could not give them, and her life would be blown to pieces, by another one of them. Horrified, she stood, and backed away. The door slammed shut on the baby and the sound woke him, he began to cry.

Twenty minutes later a car pulled up onto Little Whinging and stopped in front of number 4, Privet Drive. A frail, grey haired woman got out of the car and approached the child on the doorstep with a concerned expression on her face. She immediately lifted the child into her arms and something her eyes seemed to tighten. A wrinkled fist raised to knock on the door rather angrily and the door opened several moments later.

"Miss, are you certain that-" the woman began, as Petunia glanced at the car parked in front of her house with the words Winston Lane Orphanage printed in large letters along the side.

"His name is Harry," she interrupted, and without further comment, slammed the door in the woman's face.

* * *

July 3, 1988

The orphanage was full of whispers. A new boy would be arriving soon. He had been adopted three years earlier in London and his adoptive parents did not want him. They were returning him like an ill fitting sweater. The younger boys and girls pressed their faces against the glass of the second story window, watching as a boy, around seven or eight years old, climbed out of the car.

"He has black hair!" a little ginger boy exclaimed loudly and an older girl who was reading a boy snapped at him to shut up.

"He has a whole suitcase!" he yelled, louder still.

"William I swear to God almighty if you don't shut it…" the girl chastised, and the ginger boy rolled his eyes with his nose scrunched up. He was one of those people who never seemed pleased, and when he was pleased, the look on his face did not make others feel very pleasant.

"Stephanie maybe you two will get along, you already have so much in common," a boy a few years younger than her, around eight years old, teased maliciously. Stephanie glowered at him and he rolled his eyes.

The boy was led into the recreation room several minutes later by one of the caretakers, who rested her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Children, this is Harry, he hasn't been in the foster system for several years so please be kind to him," she begged, giving several significant children warning looks. She left the room and the children immediately swarmed the dark haired boy. He looked incredibly nervous, his fat sweater swallowing his tiny form.

Questions were asked, accusations thrown, assumptions were made, and it was soon determined that the boy was, well, odd.

"How many times have you been adopted?" one kid asked, and Harry gave his first, very quiet, response.

"Four times."

A dead silence fell over the room.

The girl looked up from her book.

"They didn't want you all four bloody times?" William asked in disbelief and color flooded the boy's cheeks in embarrassment. All was still. Quiet.

"Well, what's wrong with you then?" William demanded and Harry's green eyes widened.

"What?" he asked, sounding hurt.

"Are you mental? Slow?"

"He might be retarded!"

"My cousin is retarded!"

"You haven't got a cousin you duff!"

"I do too!"

William began to argue with one of the other boys for several minutes before turning to Harry once more. If the boy had been nervous upon his entrance, he was terrified now. He seemed to flinch whenever anyone stepped too close and tugged on his sleeves vigorously. The girl with the book was watching the boy curiously. The boys began yelling once more, this time at Harry. He started to shake and looked like he was going to cry. One boy said something particularly cruel about Harry's inability to keep a family and the air seemed to warm around the small boy.

He flinched.

The large cabinet on the wall burst into flames.

The children all began to scream. Chaos ensued and suddenly someone exclaimed that Harry had done it. They all turned to Harry, and as they did so, the flames seemed to swallow themselves and disappear, leaving the cabinet exactly as it once was.

All the children gasped and backed away from Harry immediately. They shrieked words like freak and demon. Harry, small, young, and confused, began to cry.

An adult rushed into the room and asked what was the matter. The children remained silent, staring at Harry. The caregiver looked at Harry in confusion and began to question the group of silent children further, but no one spoke. The caregiver sighed in frustration and asked Harry to follow her ou of the room.

As soon as they left the children began to talk in hushed voices, a few approached the cabinet slowly and touched it. It wasn't harmed at all. It wasn't even warm. They began to argue about what had happened and Harry was suddenly accused of all sorts of satanic worship and occult activity.

No one noticed Stephanie close her book and stare at the cabinet in utter fascination, or when she reached into her pocket to touch the comforting paper that crinkled there. No one but her knew that she would be leaving the orphanage in a month, and that she had a small letter written in green ink to thank for it.

* * *

September 1, 1988

"It's only till the summer Harry," Stephanie said softly, knowing even as she said it that in the orphanage that would feel like an eternity. Harry's wide green eyes stared at her blankly. She was leaving. He would be alone. How would he control his… powers… while she was gone?

"And… and when I come back I can show you all the cool stuff I learn and I'll have lots of stories for you… and in a few years… you'll get your letter too and you can come with me," she said, trying to be comforting. Something seemed to snap in the little dark haired boy because he suddenly stood.

"Leave!" he demanded, his voice like ice. Stephanie tensed as if he had slapped her. Her bottom lip trembled.

"Harry I would take you with me if I could, you know I would," she mumbled solemnly.

"But you can't," he deadpanned, and she shivered at the coldness that seemed to settle in the room.

"Harry," she tried, but he glared.

"Go."

She left.

He stood alone.

Staring at the brick wall.

Alone.

Abandoned.

Unwanted.

"Hey freak, your girlfriend just left," snarled a male voice from behind him. Harry turned slowly. His eyes flashed green, a deadly, unearthly green, and the boy who had spoken paled. He was a few years older than Harry. Maybe ten or eleven. But age was irrelevant.

He collapsed on the ground, clutching his throat, gasping, fighting for air. He couldn't scream, he couldn't fight. His terrified brown eyes stared into Harry's luminous emeralds and his pupils dilated as if he was making eye contact with the devil himself. Twenty seconds. His legs flailed as his hands grasped at his throat desperately. Thirty seconds. His movements became weaker. Forty seconds, he had stilled, his mouth still gasping, making small rasping sounds as he searched for his breath. A minute. Dead.

* * *

June 16th, 1989

"Harry?" a female voice said gently, "I'm back."

Harry looked up from his book. Stephanie stood in the doorway. She looked good. Her pearly skin looked softer, her brown hair silky, and she carried a trunk. She was also wearing a button down shirt and a black pleated skirt.

"Really?" he asked in a sarcastic voice, his eyes frozen on her trunk.

"Harry I know you probably won't forgive me but I am sorry for leaving you here. I came back didn't I?" she pleaded and Harry sighed dramatically.

"Tell me about Hogwarts then," he said softly, obviously disappointed in himself for his resignation. She smiled in relief and sat down beside him on the bed.

"It was absolutely wonderful!" she exclaimed, settling the trunk in front of them and clicking the latches open.

"Look what I got there!" she announced, holding up her wand for Harry to see and he stared in bewilderment.

"A stick?" he asked, not impressed.

"No! It's a wand, my wand actually, it's so I can do spells!" she explained. Harry's eyebrows scrunched together.

"What kind of spells?" he asked, confused.

"Like levitate things, make them float… Of course I can only do it to small things, like feathers and pencils…"

"Why do you need a wand for that?" Harry asked.

"Well I can't exactly do it without a wand, now can I?" she said a flustered voice.

"I can," Harry said. Stephanie began to respond but she paused. His words sunk in and she stared in confusion.

He looked down at the book in his lap and squinted at it for several moments. Stephanie let out a small gasp as she felt something wonderful tickle her skin. It was his magic, released into the air, flowing invisibly toward the book, but a small amount escaped his control and brushed against Stephanie. The book began to lift slowly into the air, up, past their eye level, and nearly to the ceiling. Stephanie's jaw dropped.

"How-" she began but couldn't even finish her sentence before she remembered something, "how are you doing magic?! You're underage, the ministry is going to come arrest you!"

Harry didn't know who the ministry was, but he had been doing magic since Stephanie had left and no one had come to arrest him. He shrugged.

"Maybe they don't have you registered…" she muttered to herself, fingering the blue and bronze tie that was neatly folded in the corner of her trunk.

Harry nodded silently a before lowering the book back into his hands. He ran his hand along the spine lovingly.

"So what else is in there?"

* * *

June 10, 1991

"Ah Miss Jacobs, what is it that you wanted to speak with me about?" Professor Dumbledore inquired with a twinkle in his eye. Stephanie looked down at her feet nervously.

"Well, Professor, I have a friend, back at the orphanage, who is magical…" Stephanie muttered nervously, she practically worshipped the headmaster. Dumbledore's blue eyes lit up in interest.

"Really?"

"Yes, and umm, we were concerned because he turns eleven in July and since he isn't well, known to the wizarding world, we were worried he won't get invited to attend here next year," she explained, her palms sweating.

"Of course, I understand your concern, Hogwarts is, of course, open to all magical children, regardless of where they come from," he assured her, placing his palms on his desk.

"Really?" she asked, delighted.

"Yes. I will come visit your orphanage over the summer holidays and meet your friend," he informed her, and she smiled widely.

* * *

June 25, 1991

"Stephanie, Harry… you have a visitor," the matron said, peering into the small room that the two shared. Harry sat on his bed reading a second year spellbook while Stephanie lay with her bum up against the wall and her legs sticking upward along the wall, as if she were pretending to sit on the wall.

Professor Dumbledore stepped inside the room and Stephanie quickly dropped her legs from the wall and sat up straight. He smiled mildly at her actions.

"Professor!" she let out breathlessly and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Stephanie…" Dumbledore nodded politely at the ravenclaw, and turned to Harry. Harry rose from the bed.

"Hello sir, I'm Harry," he greeted him gracefully, extending his hand for a handshake. Dumbledore's eyes widened at the boy's skillful charisma. Their eyes met and Dumbledore felt as if he had seen those eyes before. Dumbledore's eyes widened to a comical size. HARRY. HARRY BLOODY POTTER.

"Harry?" Dumbledore said in a contemplative voice and Harry looked at him as if he were wondering if he was touched in the head. "Harry Potter," he finished firmly, looking the boy up and down. His skinny frame, wide, round glasses, his mother's eyes, his father's unruly dark hair, and lastly… Dumbledore stepped forward and pushed Harry's hair up off his forehead, ignoring Harry's indignant protest and letting out a broken sigh of triumph at the tiny lightning scar etched on his forehead.

He stepped away and Harry was glaring darkly at the professor; he did not like to be touched. However, the wizard's next words shocked him enough to forget about the unwanted contact.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived, is alive."

* * *

AN- I'm new at this fanfiction thing so bear with me... The first two chapter will run through Harry's first, second, and third years. I find it particularly unbearable when a fic elaborates on his preteen and child years for over a few chapters so I'm summarizing the basics, and leaving a little mystery to be implied. The pairing will be Harry and Tom Riddle, and if that makes you uncomfortable please do not leave me a hateful review about it. I apologize but that is the ship this fic will be based on. The next chapter will begin with Harry's sorting... I am attempting to make Harry dark and a bit cold without removing all of the passion and sarcasm from him completely because I do want him to be somewhat canon in personality... just a bit twisted. To clarify why Dumbledore believed he was dead, it was what Harry's aunt told him. She lied and pretended he had died at around one year old when he contacted her. Anyway please follow and review, I'll try to have the next chapter up within a week but since I have school I can't exactly swear on it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Have you got colour in your cheeks?_  
_Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift_  
_The type that sticks around like something in your teeth?_  
_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_  
_Have you no idea that you're in deep?_  
_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week_  
_How many secrets can you keep?_

_-Do I wanna Know, Arctic Monkeys_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

The brim of the sorting hat slid over Harry's eyes, hiding the many fascinated students craning their necks to get a look at him, he wasn't sure what to expect. From what he'd gathered he would prefer to be placed in Ravenclaw or Slytherin. They were the two most known for their intellect, and tended to produce successful witches and wizards. He had discussed it on the Hogwarts Express with Stephanie and she reassured him rather hopefully that he would get placed in Ravenclaw. Harry knew she was saying that rather naively, she just hoped they would be together. She had teased him about being placed in Hufflepuff and he simply rolled his eyes in response.

"Hmm… how very interesting..." a voice resounded in his head and Harry was suddenly very uncomfortable, as if he'd been doused with ice water.

"Get out of my head!" he thought back irritably. He tried to push back against the presence in his mind, but discovered that he couldn't. It was rooted there, as if it were a solid, physical thing, and Harry realized moments later, feeling stupid, that it was. The presence was the hat.

"Very passionate, a bit rash, not unlike your parents… but you don't know that of course…"the hat mumbled in his mind and Harry tensed. The last month had been nothing but people telling him that he was so much like his father and that he had his mother's eyes. Meaningless words to him. Memories wouldn't bring them back.

"A thirst for knowledge, perhaps Ravenclaw then, but not purely for your own good of course… you crave power, you seem to already have power… interesting… definitely ambitious, and if I am seeing correctly, quite a lot of shadows… I think it's quite clear where to put you, Potter," the hat rambled confidently before exclaiming without hesitation, "Slytherin!"

The hall was silent and as the hat was removed from Harry's hat he met eyes with hundreds of bewildered students.

"Sorry to disappoint," he sneered under his breath, and stood as a few Slytherins began to clap in a subdued manner. He approached the table of silver and green and took a seat beside a haughty looking boy with silvery blonde hair. The boy looked at him distrustfully for several seconds, and reared back when Harry stared straight back at him.

They sat quietly while the rest of the first years were sorted and Harry scooted over as Blaise Zabini took a seat beside him. The blonde and Zabini shared a look over Harry's shoulders before sighing in turn.

"Hello Harry, I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy," the blonde introduced himself in a pretentious voice, extending his hand for a handshake. Harry looked down at it, uncertainly deliberating whether or not the handshake was necessary. He remembered what he'd read of the Slytherin House and determined that yes, it was necessary. Pure bloods were practically obsessed with their silly customs, and Harry knew that to mix successfully with his housemates, there were standards he would have to meet.

They shook hands as Harry nodded. The boys gave one another a tight smile. Blaise leaned forward and smiled.

"I'm Blaise, Zabini that is," the dark skinned boy said as he extended his hand to meet Harry's.

Harry looked down the rest of the table apprehensively. The Slytherins all appeared deadly, the kind of deadly that not any person could appreciate, but Harry was not just any person. He could recognize the tidy, elegant flow of each individual's hair, the prim, expensive robes, and most of all, the sharp, cunning gleam in their eyes. He knew he belonged there. He knew it the second he saw a girl a few years older than him get teased mercilessly for her stained shirt, and immediately cleansed the stain with her wand, wordless. He knew without a doubt that he would fit in splendidly. But he did not want to fit in, he wanted to be the best.

* * *

Nearly an hour later Harry was unpacking his trunk and folding his clothing neatly, arranging them in organized piles within his dresser. Malfoy and another boy were laughing about something someone had said, and Harry did not quite understand the conversation.

Phrases he never heard before were casually mentioned, such as "blood traitors" and "mudblood". He would need to research it in the library later. He knew better than to ask a dorm full of purebloods questions that would make him appear utterly clueless.

"So, Potter," Malfoy drawled, "what is it like to be resurrected from the dead?"

Harry didn't look up from his folding, "it's quite invigorating, actually."

There was a moments silence before Blaise let out a short laugh at Malfoy's expense.

"Wonderful," Malfoy muttered shrewdly, fluffing his pillow haughtily.

Harry rolled his eyes and laid down on his new four poster bed, stomach down, propped up on his elbows as he began to read a fourth year defense against the dark arts spellbook.

"What are you reading?" Malfoy asked curiously, looking at the cover of Harry's book. Harry mumbled something that sounded like "be quiet."

"You're reading fourth year DA?" Malfoy exclaimed, clearly impressed. Blaise looked up from his trunk at this and Harry sighed.

"I've already read it, but I decided a re read could be beneficial," he explained. Draco and Blaise's faces were priceless and Harry smiled when he looked up from his book to gauge their reactions.

"It's all so simple, it just takes time to read," he said, as if it were no big deal.

"How do you have the patience for that, it's all quite boring… It's not the interesting stuff, you don't get to that until fifth and six year," Blaise asked in a bewildered voice.

"Exactly, so within the next year I'll have learned the basics of all the years of DA and I will be able to learn even more advanced magic! Why not learn as much as I can now?" he clarified and Draco's jaw dropped.

"That's actually… really smart," the blond admitted and Harry grinned, returning to his book.

"I've only just finished the first year one…" Blaise mumbled and Harry, without even looking up from his reading, and without his wand, levitated his second year spellbook out of his trunk and into Blaise's unsuspecting arms.

Blaise squealed a bit in fright and Draco's jaw, which had been on the floor for several minutes, dropped to below sea level. He sputtered a bit before turning to the dark haired boy on the bed.

"How did you…" but Harry just smirked.

"Why don't you guys start reading?"

* * *

It had been months since the Hogwarts Express had brought the students to the castle and Harry was the happiest he'd ever been. He enjoyed his house, he understood it, he understood the system of manipulation and exertion of power that he'd witnessed within the first few days. He even, shockingly, sometimes found himself enjoying the company of his housemates, such as Draco and Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle were absolute imbeciles, but they never bullied him so they were alright. Theodore Nott could be a bloody moron, calling other students "mudbloods" and "blood traitors" in the most idiotic of places, such as during Transfiguration with Mcgonagall. Harry had done his research on "magical blood" and was unimpressed. There were so many problems and controversies centered on the issue of magical and blood purity and yet there were absolutely no records of actual research or studies done on the matter in the library, which had books on literally everything one could think of.

Besides, Harry could hardly believe in that shit, being a halfblood himself.

Pansy Parkinson, a petite brunette pureblood girl who loved to tease the Gryffindors nearly as much as Malfoy, clung on to him and Draco constantly. During their first defense against the dark arts class Harry had disarmed the idiot Quirrell, without blinking an eye, resulting in a detention, and a reputation of being "ahead of his years." Due to that class Harry Potter had become Slytherin's so called Golden Boy and all of the Slytherin first years worshipped him. He found it rather annoying, but also very convenient.

Almost all of the professors adored him, when he had performed wandless levitating charms in Flitwick's class he nearly fainted, and Professor Mcgonagall was beyond impressed when he completed a complicated transfiguration spell perfectly on the first try.

One thing that was bothering him was the Potions Professor, Severus Snape. On the very first day of class Snape had called him out for not paying attention, and quizzed him on the spot on the magical properties of half a dozen herbs. Snape then became even more infuriated when Harry knew every single one, and gave thorough descriptions of their origins and uses. Since then, potions class was frustrating, and he had to be sure to brew each potion to perfection in case Snape decided to inspect it with his harsh and hateful eyes. Harry was not sure why he hated him so much, he assumed it was for the same reason so many of the older Slytherins hated him, Voldemort.

Harry saw Stephanie in the halls and in the library often, and they were always cordial to one another, but ever since he had been sorted into Slytherin there had been some sort of divide. They were friendly but not close, and one day Stephanie stopped him to ask if he planned to go home for the winter holidays. Harry rather foolishly agreed to go home with her, as he needed to do so anyways to collect a number of his books that he had neglected to bring months earlier.

It was a few days later that Draco invited Harry to spend the winter holidays with his family. Which was of course, how he'd ended up flooing to the Malfoy residence with Stephanie and Draco on either side of him.

They sat at dinner that night with a rather awkward silence hanging in the air.

"So who exactly are your parents, Miss Jacobs?" Lucius Malfoy asked regally.

"My parents were descendents of the Longbottom and Nott family," Stephanie stuttered, seemingly afraid to make eye contact with the elder Malfoy. Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't known that.

"Really? Whom?" Lucius asked in an intrigued tone. Stephanie seemed reluctant to answer and blushed.

"You probably would not know them sir, they were squibs," she responded, cheeks red as tomatoes.

"I see," Lucius murmured, while exchanging a glance with Narcissa, his beautiful blonde wife. Harry knew that while squibs were definitely looked down upon by purebloods, they were still an upgrade to muggles.

"And you and Mr. Potter grew up in the same orphanage?" Narcissa asked. Her voice was smooth as silk, and her eyes bright and attentive. Harry got the immediate feeling that she was much smarter and much more observant than her husband.

"Yes, we've been together for… what four years Harry?" Stephanie asked, turning to Harry.

"Just about," he replied, and Stephanie smiled.

Narcissa gave the two of them a calculating look before beginning to talk about Theodore Nott's newest stepfather, and hinting shrewdly that he may not being an entirely permanent installment in their family. Draco and Stephanie's eyes were somewhat glazed over as the adults spoke of politics and the most recent gossip, but Harry listened, and deliberated each piece of information he heard. He had come to the conclusion that power was power, but so was knowledge. Knowledge told you what to do with your power. He stored away each drop of a name and political reference in his mind, in case he ever needed any of it later.

The rest of the holidays were spent building snowforts, reading books far ahead of curriculum and ignoring the fact that Stephanie was completely uncomfortable in the Malfoy residence. It began on the second night, when Lucius had backhanded one of his house elves for dropping an expensive drink on an even more expensive rug. Stephanie had gasped and clearly wanted to defend the elf, but when she turned to Harry and Draco to gauge their reactions she was shocked to see them completely unaffected by the violence.

A few days after that, Harry had hinted rather heavily that he would like to visit the Malfoy library, and Draco had led them to the large room. The shelves were high and stacked with ancient books and tomes. Stephanie, being a Ravenclaw, had been rather excited and began to browse through various texts. She leaned over to see what Harry was reading and was bothered to see him reading a book titled, "The Light and Dark." Which was, of course, not the issue. The issue was that the next few books he had pulled down to read were all stacked neatly, and all seemed to be about various branches of dark magic. She chose not to dwell on it.

Harry was on his third book from the Malfoy library and found himself frown at one of the words. Parselmouth.

"Draco," Harry began, "What is a Parselmouth?"

"What?" he exclaimed and Harry frowned.

"What is it?" he asked and Draco's grey eyes stared at him in shock.

"Talking to snakes of course, it's Slytherin's talent, it's why the bloody signa of our house is a snake. Merlin, Harry, sometimes you ask me things…" Draco blurted out passionately.

"What do you mean its a talent, can't you do it?" Harry asked, looking completely bemused. Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

"Well, no, not everyone can speak parseltongue, only Salazar Slytherin himself could speak it, and his descendents of course…" Draco explained and Harry's eyes widened.

"It's not common?" he demanded and Stephanie looked at him out of the corner of her eye, anxious for some reason. There was a moment's silence while Harry weighed the benefits of telling the two of them that he was, impossibly, a parselmouth.

"I can speak it," Harry said bluntly. Draco and Stephanie's heads snapped up to look at him.

"What?" they both gasped, and looked awkwardly at each other.

"Yes," he confirmed quietly, staring off into space as if he was thinking very hard.

They all stared at each other for a few minutes before Draco launched himself in to a long rant of questions and rhetorical answers and angry bursts of "but the Potters aren't descendants of Slytherin!" Stephanie was simply quiet, staring at Harry, and feeling a horrible, sinking feeling in her stomach. She had a sudden flashback to the year before, at the orphanage, when they had a snake infestation problem. Four of the boys had been bitten by snakes during that time, and two of the four had died. At the time it all seemed like a strange and random sequence of events, but now…

She looked at Harry. His striking, messy black hair, electrical green eyes that seemed to look through her very soul, and his lanky build. He had not worn glasses for several years. She had returned from school and he had no longer been wearing them. He had fixed his sight with magic.

She thought of the look he sometimes got in his eyes. The look that made people around him shrink back in fear.

* * *

The school year ended pretty uneventfully, and on the ride back to King's Cross Station Harry found himself wondering if he ought to ak Draco to let him spend the summer with him next year. Harry and Stephanie said hello to the Malfoy family, Stephanie squirming under their harsh gazes, and hopped in a cab to the orphanage.

The summer was boring. The pair owned no books that they had not both read and Harry had to content himself with memorizing potions textbooks, the most difficult thing he could challenge himself with.

Stephanie had been acting strange. Harry knew she was wary of him because of his more Slytherin attributes, but he hadn't changed over the school year at all. Perhaps she had just never seen him clearly before?

Harry was perturbed by her behavior. She rarely slept, she barely ate, her eyes were dull and her hair was stringy and unkempt. She spent hours a day writing in a small, leather, black diary that he had never seen before, and he was desperate to know what she could possibly be writing in it. One day he snapped.

"What on earth are you writing all the bloody time?" he demanded, and without thinking he levitated the diary directly out of Stephanie's hands and into his own. She shrieked at him to give it back but he ignored her, opening the front cover. T. M. Riddle.

"This isn't even yours!" he spat out, and opened to the first page, finding it blank. "It's completely blank!" he exclaimed.

Stephanie was by this point in tears in front of him, crying, "Give it back!" She was absolutely distraught that he had taken the diary from her, but she also knew that fighting with him, touching him in any way, was out of the question, therefore she simply stood in front of him begging for the diary to be returned to her.

Harry placed his hand on the center of one of it's blank pages and closed his eyes, toning Stephanie's whining out. He concentrated on his palm, he concentrated on the magic within his hand and then pushed outward, feeling for any magic within the diary. The diary had a definite magical aura. Harry could sense a dark, addictive, and compelling presence within it.

"This holds dark magic," Harry gasped, looking up at Stephanie. She was still crying.

"Please just give it back!" she pleaded and Harry's eyes darkened.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded furiously, and Stephanie sobbed harder.

"Please, Tom will-"

"Who's Tom?" Harry asked.

Stephanie quieted, and sank down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. Harry looked down at her with a look in his eyes that made Stephanie cringe: disgust and pity.

"I got the book from Draco's father on the way here. I thought it was blank and I was bored I figured I would write in it, but when I did someone wrote back. His name is Tom Riddle. He says he is a memory of someone who lived decades ago…" she mumbled in a broken voice. Harry looked down at the diary in his hands, that was some very complex magic.

"You are a fool," he announced, looking down at her coldly. Her jaw dropped in confusion.

"What?"

"You think that a Malfoy handed you, the child of squibs, a diary out of what, charity?" he asked, the end sneering sarcastically. Stephanie shuddered at the fire in his eyes, he was a child, a dangerous, spiteful child that could probably make her disappear without a moments hesitation. She shook her head at that thought. They were friends, Harry wouldn't hurt her.

"I-I," she sputtered.

"This has the strongest trace of dark magic I've ever encountered inside it," Harry explained, looking down at the diary.

"How can you-"

"Thats not the point, the point is that you should have told me the moment someone 'wrote back' to you in a diary that you received from someone, especially from Lucius Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed.

"Since when are you in charge of me?" Stephanie burst out, and there was a cold silence following. Stephanie flinched and looked down at the wooden floorboards.

"I apologize. I had forgotten who was the older one here," Harry said in a solemn voice, and Stephanie felt an eerie chill run down her spine. She stood and slowly left the room.

She closed the door behind her and noticed the children scurrying away as she left her and Harry's room. She couldn't help but feel as though Harry was moments away from slamming her into the wall. Stephanie shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. It was irrational to fear an eleven year old boy, it truly was. Especially since that eleven year old boy was her first true friend.

But still… Harry was no ordinary eleven year old boy. And he was a Slytherin.

Stephanie found herself standing at the end of the long hallway when she remembered the day she had walked in to find a crying Harry standing over a bloody orphan girl a year previous. She remembered hearing him say she had begun to puke up blood as he stood watching. She had believed him of course. But she had noticed the way the other children whispered. _"Just like with Tony…"_ they all said, and at the time she hadn't been suspicious enough to wonder, but now she was.

* * *

Harry touched his quill to the page and began to write.

_Hello, my name is Harry Potter._

A moment later someone responded.

_Hello Harry Potter, my name is Tom Riddle._

_Who are you exactly Tom?_

_What do you mean?_

_Why did you leave your memory in this diary?_

_It was a bit of an experiment really._

_Did you attend Hogwarts?_

_Yes, did you?_

_Yes, I am entering my second year._

_What house are you in?_

Harry narrowed his eyes, he didn't like all the questions.

_Slytherin._

_Me as well._

_How did you like it there._

_I enjoyed it. And you?_

_Me as well._

* * *

AN- So Stephanie has started to question Harry, which will easily cause some problems... I'm sorry if I update a bit too slowly for you guys but I have exams coming up in school so I'm pretty busy lately. I was going to make this chapter a bit longer but that would have taken a few more days so I figured you guys would rather just get this now rather than later. A huge thank you to everyone who reviewed! Lots of you guys made some very good points and I loved reading what you all thought about the first chapter. They definitely motivated me to get this chapter done. Anyway follow and review and I will try to have the next chapter up by next week.


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